


You'll Wanna Sit Down For This One

by freshest



Series: Wheel of Fortune [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, College AU, Coming Out, First Date, First Kiss, First Relationship, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Implied Reincarnation, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Stan is a direct wingman okay he's a BRO, aka eddie's mom, derry typical homophobia, eddie's in a wheelchair, interable!reddie, interabled couple, lets make that a more used tag pls thnks, mentioned child abuse, mentions of canon typical abuses, modern day AU, richie is not, stan and richie are best buds in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21604105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshest/pseuds/freshest
Summary: The Boy who works at the library front desk is hands down the most beautiful boy in existence - or so Richie is convinced. Stan insists he should probably just talk to him, but pining from afar is working just fine for Richie, thanks for asking. He's so distracted by Eddie's face that he doesn't realize he's in a wheelchair until he's finally managed to ask him out.Things go a lot better than he could of hoped for.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Wheel of Fortune [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557055
Comments: 30
Kudos: 358





	You'll Wanna Sit Down For This One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey what up so these are some important notes to read for this fic! I'm a part-time wheelchair user myself (well I actually use another kind of mobility aid but I'm not gonna get into schematics here lmao). A lot of people use wheelchairs for a LARGE range of various health reasons and to varying extents. Some people hardly need to use their wheelchairs while others can only get around via their wheelchairs. 
> 
> I never see disabled!Eddie fanfictions which is always funny to me since he gets debilitating injuries at the end of canon in book! or movie! verse (ie; getting his literal arm ripped off / being stabbed THROUGH THE SPINE) so I've always wanted to see more of that and figured I might as well write some for myself.
> 
> Please note that MY personal experiences with wheelchairs aren't a universal thing. My knowledge is limited to my own experiences and what I have learned. I didn't specify Eddie's reason for being in a wheelchair, and I kept it similar to my own. 
> 
> I realize that some of their jokes might seem in "poor taste" to some people, and I apologize to anyone who uses a wheelchair if it offends you. I personally really enjoy that casual sort of humor with people in regards to my disability (when I know and trust the person, obviously) BUT NOT EVERYONE DOES So definitely don't assume that kind of humor/approach is okay with just anyone you meet w a disability. Pretty common sense, but like also I don't want ..to not clarify that either. 
> 
> I really think that Reddie would be a fucking amazing interabled couple because they just have that incredible energy where Eddie's ability doesn't seem like it'd be such a focus. Richie would clearly want to make sure he could accomodate him but it just- I don't know!!! Interabled!Reddie makes my heart so fucking full and I love them. 
> 
> I really really loved writing this and I honestly might do more with this and make a sort of "series" of moments between interabled!Reddie. So definitely keep tabs of this if you liked this! 
> 
> As far as a note for the overall fic goes: They're all in college freshman year. I didn't specify where. I'm pegging them to be attending school in present time. Enjoy Patty, Kay, and Audra being bros for Richie. Sorry but King barely gave us any female characters who WEREN'T AWFUL in this series and u bet your ass i'm using all the good ones. BYE. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> OH. And the title of this series "Wheel of Fortune" is a play on Eddie being in a wheelchair BUT also the tarot card! Just for those wondering. btw I know nothing of Tarot Cards so if someone out there is like "WOW THAT ISNT FITTING AT ALL" you are probably right I am just a dumbass who thinks i am hilarious

“Oh, I swear I’m in love,” Richie exclaimed.

“You’re not in love,” Stan told him again, “You’re just horny.”

“How _dare_ you invalidate my feelings,” Richie said, sniffing, but he was back to staring at the Boy. Stanley wasn’t entirely wrong, but he wasn’t entirely right either. Richie didn’t think so anyway. Richie had TR classes with Stan and after class they would head out to the library to do their homework together.

College level chemistry wasn’t too hard, but they were lab partners and it was a lot easier to do all their work together instead of apart. Even Richie had to admit that the library was easier to work in than either of their dorms. Richie’s roomie reeked the room up with weed, and despite popular belief, Richie hated the shit. Smelled worse than a fresh shit and it made his head spin. If he was going to party, it was going to be with booze.

Stan, on the other hand, had a pretty all right roomie, but the guy was a music major and almost always had noise going. Anytime either of them pointed it out, the guy would say that he had no choice but to practice all the time. It was bullshit, and Richie was just glad that they were rooming together next year.

Freshman year of college meant being away from Derry for the first time for the two of them, and they had decided on attending the same college, but had figured maybe they could try to open up their social options a little by rooming with other people. Like total idiots.

Not everything was bad though. Like the Boy. He was always working the front desk whenever they came in, typing away on the computer. There was no name tag, but it didn’t matter. There was only one boy Richie was ever talking about when he’d said The Boy.

He had never actually had a crush before. It sounded pathetic even to himself, but Derry had been isolating for boys like him. And truth be told, even if Derry was throwing Pride every other week, it wasn’t like there had been a list of boys Richie would have been calling up.

Mullets just weren’t his thing. He just suffered four tragic years of being indefinitely horny and lonely instead like most gay boys in Derry. If there were even any other gay boys _in_ Derry. Richie was skeptical, but Stan insisted he couldn’t be the only one. Said it was statistically improbable. Stan was probably right. It was generally known that Stan Uris was hardly ever wrong, was the thing.

In any case it meant Richie was aching for it by the time he took his first step onto his college campus. The guys there were all right. Definitely better than Derry trash, but no one was really his type, he’d discovered.

“I can’t believe _you_ of all people are picky,” Stan had said, amused, and somehow impressed sounding.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Richie asked, hand over his chest.

“Dude,” Stan said pointedly, and Richie just sighed.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” Richie agreed. “I have to maintain my rep, Stan. People can’t know I let things like _looks_ and _personality_ get in the way of what I wanna hump. They might think I’m… _sentimental._ ” He whispered the last word, cupping his hands dramatically over his mouth.

And maybe he was sentimental was the thing – even though Stan had snorted and rolled his eyes. Truth was that he was a complete sap. Even during his faceless fantasies in high school, it had never just been some random guy he was dreaming about. It was always the illusion of a long-term boyfriend he was having sex with or sucking off. He had even created numerous backstories and everything.

Richie was in love with the idea of being in love, but he was too rational to just trip up over the first guy who handed him a pen. That was Chad from history. He was okay looking, and seemed genuinely friendly, but there just wasn’t that something-something.

But _the Boy._

The Boy had a something-something. Richie had rushed into the library One Fateful Day (the cliché alone would make Stan scream, and the very idea of that is enough to make Richie rely solely on it) and seen him for the first time. The Boy had been sitting behind the desk, a notebook opened in front of him along with several different colored pens. He was taking extensive color-coded notes that even Stan would be impressed by.

Richie almost completely forgot why he had even come into the library. The Boy had this _face_. The only person in real life that Richie had ever seen that he would refer to as pretty had always been his other best friend, Beverly Marsh, but she had nothing on this kid- no offense to Ms. Marsh, and maybe it was his personal preferences talking, but he was positive Beverly would be inclined to agree. The slope of the nose, the dizzying number of freckles, and gray eyes that gave Richie some pause. He didn’t know if he had ever even met someone with gray eyes before.

Eyes that had flicked up to Richie and widened marginally within seconds of seeing him. Or maybe that was just in Richie’s head. It definitely had to be in Richie’s head, because almost immediately after seeing the Boy, Richie realized how agonizingly out of his league he was.

“Hi,” Richie said meekly, “I’m here for book.”

“For book,” the Boy repeated slowly, a (perfect) eyebrow slanting upward. Richie heard him, and then processed what he had said, and slapped his hands down on the table, a blush already hot on his face.

“Sorry, I was so busy fantasizing about our first date I forgot what I came here for,” Richie said honestly, and the Boy merely stared at him, looking completely unamused. Richie looked at him a little harder then, moving past his face to his torso. _Slim_.

He was small, even behind the desk Richie could tell he was small, and he was wearing this pastel, floral long-sleeved shirt with the word ‘ME!’ slapped on the front. Richie was almost positive that was a song, and he scoured his brain for what it was just for the simple fact that he wanted to talk to this boy somewhat normally before he lost his roll.

“Right,” the Boy said finally, frowning a little, and Richie should have just been grateful that the kid wasn’t screaming about a guy hitting on him.

“Do you actually need something or…?” the Boy pressed.

“Uh,” Richie muttered, “I – yes. Hold on. Do you guys have this?” He finally remembered what he was here for, and he dug out his class syllabus and slid it across. He had already circled the title.

When the Boy took the syllabus from him, Richie noticed how immaculate his nails were. Cut and filed down entirely, and Richie thought about how it meant that the boy’s fingers wouldn’t scratch him if he was digging them into his shoulders.

“Let me look,” the Boy finally said, already typing in the title with those swift, elegant fingers. Richie wanted to say something else, anything else, but truthfully, he had never actually flirted before, and this wasn’t just him being an idiot with his friends. He didn’t want to make this guy hate him, and so, for once, Richie kept his mouth shut.

“We do,” the Boy said, and he pointed up. “Second floor. You’ll find it under autobiographies. Here’s the number to look for. If you can’t find it there, let me know and I’ll help you out.”

“Okay,” Richie said, watching the boy write the number for the book just next to it on Richie’s syllabus. He handed the packet back and Richie felt their fingers touch for just a second. “Thanks, cutie.”

Annnnd there it was. Richie grimaced, and the Boy just frowned harder at him.

“Whatever,” the Boy mumbled, looking down at his notebook, and for a second it almost looked like he was hurt. Then his expression smoothed out, and Richie figured he had to of imagined it.

In any case, he had found his book even though he had debated pretending not to and misplacing it just so he could get the guy’s help, but then he had chickened out last second and figured he’d just wind up putting his foot more firmly in his mouth if he had bothered.

So he checked his book out, and the Boy scanned the title in, handed it back, and let him know when the book was due.

That had been the full extent of their interactions. He hadn’t gone back to the library after that until Stan had suggested it one day. Richie hadn’t wanted to seem like a creep, but he wasn’t about to deny that he hadn’t been looking around campus constantly for the boy. He had looked like a student at all, maybe was doing some work-study, and Richie was hopeful.

It hadn’t happened, but when they strolled in that first Tuesday, the Boy had been there behind the desk. Richie had grabbed Stan’s arm and gave it a violent shaking to which Stan shoved away at once.

“What the fuck, Richie?” Stan had said loudly enough that the Boy had looked up sharply from his desk, and Richie smiled nervously.

“Sorry,” he had said, and the Boy frowned back, but ultimately said nothing and looked back down at whatever homework he was working on. Stan had never actually heard Richie apologize so sincerely before and this was what noted him in. He stared at Richie, and then over at the Boy, and this look of realization fell over his face.

When they found a table, Stan had only one thing to say about the subject: “I’m somehow not shocked that’s your type.”

Richie had no idea what that was even supposed to mean, but he hadn’t cared to ask. He had been much more preoccupied with stealing glances at the Boy for the remainder of their session at the library.

They began to come back routinely, and Richie didn’t feel so creepy since it was a genuine coincidence with the bonus of getting to see the Boy. Besides, the Boy wasn’t there every single time they came in. But he was most of the time.

“He looks so good in red,” Richie said lowly, flipping the page back and forth in his notebook needlessly.

“Yeah,” Stan agreed absently. While he was exhausted of hearing about Richie pine, he also generally agreed that the Boy was a pretty good option as far as First Crushes went. Stan proclaimed that he liked the fact that the Boy kept himself so neat, had nice notes, and generally nice fashion.

Stan’s approval meant a stupid amount to Richie, and in his head, Stan was already his best man at their wedding. Stan could give some tear-jerking speech about how he too had always known that the Boy was the One for Richie.

“Do you think…”

“No,” Stan dismissed at once, “But I’m sure he could tell you whatever you’re about to ask if you just talked to him.”  
  


“Talking? To a boy?” Richie scoffed, “Stanley. What do you take me for? A civilized human capable of processing emotions at a semi-functional rate? Jesus, dude. Thought you were my best friend.”

“Fine,” Stan said, snapping his book shut suddenly. It was so sudden that Richie and the girls at the table next to them all jumped at the same time.

Stan stood up just as abruptly, and Richie was completely lost as to what the hell was going on. He remained lost even as Stan walked across the library and went directly up to the front desk and to the Boy. It wasn’t until he saw their mouths moving and the Boy look their way that he even realized what they were doing.

“No,” Richie said, horror growing rapidly inside of him, “ _No._ That traitorous bitch.”

“What’s going on?” one of the girls from the table over asked, all of them staring at whatever had just happened.

“He’s fucking-,” Richie said, gesturing over towards Stan, not even thinking about talking so casually to these chicks, “Do you even _know_ who that is?”

The girl who had spoken to him frowned, tucking some of her blond hair behind her ear and looked over at the desk. “Stanley? We have an accounting class together.”

“No, not fucking Stanley. The boy—agh fuck!” Richie exclaimed when Stan turned around and headed back. Stanley sat down across from Richie with a very satisfied air about him, and he opened his book back up to the page he’d left off on.

“His name is Eddie,” Stan supplied, and Richie didn’t know whether he wanted to beat the living soul out of him or cry at his feet in gratitude. _Eddie._ Eddie. Oh, Christ, it was cute. Richie mouthed the name a dozen times over before finally whispering it out loud.

“Oh,” the blond girl at the table over said, “I get it now.”

Stan looked up and over, blinking, and then he blinked again. “Excuse me?”

“You should just talk to him,” the girl ignored Stan for the moment, looking instead at Richie. “Eddie’s really sweet.”

“Well,” the girl across from her said, smirking, “I think sweet is a relative term.”

“I like sweet and sour,” Richie quickly said, “Sour Patch kids are hands down my favorite candy.”

“It’s true,” Stan said mildly, still staring at the blond girl. “He’s always been a slut for Sour Patch kids.”

“Then go take a bite,” the blond girl said with a snort, “It’s the snack that bites back.”

“You mean smiles back?” Stan said.

“No,” the girl said, smiling now at Stan, “ _Bite_.”

“You guys know Eddie?” Richie asked, hearing only one thing about this entire conversation and that was the fact that these girls knew the Love of His Life and therefor probably had imperative information. Richie stood up and moved over to their table immediately, ignoring Stan’s ‘hey!’ and sat promptly down next to the blond girl.

“How creepy would it be if I asked you to tell me everything?”

“That depends,” the blond girl said, “What do you plan to do with the information?”

“Pine, mostly,” Richie said in earnest, “Daydream about it in my head and add it to unrealistic scenarios and then just cry when he doesn’t say hi to me first.”

“Well in _that_ case,” the girl said, and Stan groaned from next to them.

“Please don’t encourage him. He needs to grow a pair,” Stan whined.

“Maybe he just needs incentive,” the girl said, and Richie realized he really needed to know his best friend’s name and jutted his hand out.

“I’m Richie,” he introduced, “And you’re now at least five ranks above Stan.”

“Patricia,” the girl said with a smile, shaking his hand firmly, “But my friends call me Patty.”

“I’m Kay,” the girl who had spoken up earlier announced, and the girl next to her gave a cheerier, smaller smile and introduced herself as Audra.

“Audra lives in the same dorm building as Eddie,” Patty explained. She glanced over at Stan who was squirming a bit, and smiled, “You can sit with us, you know. There’s enough space.”

Stan moved over after a hesitant few seconds, and settled into the next hour wherein the three girls told them everything they could think of to tell him about Eddie Kaspbrak. Apparently, Eddie was also from Derry which Richie refused to believe until Audra verified as much by telling them what the school colors and mascot were.

How had he never known? Well, apparently Eddie had been homeschooled. And he hadn’t gotten out a lot.

“Protective mother,” Audra explained, her mouth twisted.

“ _That’s_ putting it lightly,” Kay muttered. “Woman sounds like an outright witch. They have another word for overprotective to _that_ extent.”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked, and Kay had glanced over her shoulder at Eddie, as if making sure he was far away enough, before looking back over.

“It’s really not my business to share, I don’t think, but I guess his mom had him thinking he had all these things wrong with him growing up. Sounds like Munchausen by Proxy if you ask me.”

“One psychology class and Kay here thinks she’s a licensed psychologist,” Patty murmured to Stan.

“Fuck you very kindly,” Kay snipped back, but hardly seemed offended, “In cases like that you don’t _need_ a license to know what’s messed up.”

Richie looked over at Eddie, and he felt something unpleasant churning in his gut. Had Eddie been from any other town, he would have still believed Kay, but the fact that he was from Derry had Richie feeling a little queasy. Derry had a tendency for pumping out horrific parents in droves. Not the usual kind of horrific either. It wasn’t uncommon for a kid to show up dead because their daddy had been drinking too much or had gotten just mad enough to hit a little too hard.

“Shit,” Richie said under his breath, and he stood up. He could hear someone saying his name, but Richie was too focused now. Maybe it was because he felt some sort of kinship with people from Derry, or maybe it was because he couldn’t stand the idea of Eddie having to have gone through that all alone his whole life.

Richie didn’t want him to be alone anymore. And it was that more than anything that gave him the courage to approach that front desk and speak easier than he would of ever thought himself capable of around Eddie.

“Hi,” he said, and Eddie looked up, “My name’s Richie.”

“…Hi Richie,” Eddie said quietly.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Richie asked, and he had no clue where it came from, but there it was. His spine had showed up after all these years. Eddie began to turn read, and he blinked a few times, and then once more for good measure. It was arguably the cutest thing Richie had ever seen in his entire life, and he had seen one of Mike’s cows sleep with its head in his lap before.

“…Is this a joke?” Eddie asked nervously, and that was enough to crush something sharp and aching inside of Richie. God. How many times had he thought any boy talking to him had bad intention? Ever since Bowers’s cousin at the arcade had hissed the word ‘fairy’ at him back when he was just a kid, just for touching his hand, he had always been wary. It was maybe okay out in this city to be open about that kind of thing, but Derry had broken him down to expect the worst.

And he couldn’t really blame Eddie for expecting it either. Not if he was from Derry too.

Richie rested his arms against the counter and leaned over it a little.

“No,” he said, “I’m not kidding. I’m also realizing it is kind of a dick move to ask someone out while they’re at working. Shit, sorry. I don’t even know what the definition of impulse control is. You can tell me to fuck off if you want. I swear I’m not one of those assholes who will like to show up outside of your work and stalk your schedule. Okay, hey, I’m definitely rambling right now. Shutting up now.”

“That’s – no it’s okay,” Eddie said, and Richie wasn’t sure what he was saying ‘no’ to or what he was saying ‘it’s okay’ to, but Richie wanted to die on the spot.

“Just um- are you sure?” Eddie finally asked, and Richie had never felt more lost in his life.

“Sure about what?” he asked.

“Wanting to um. Date me? Like, you literally see me, right?” Eddie asked, and Richie stared at him.

“Yeah, dude, that’s half the problem. You’re _stupid_ gorgeous.”

Eddie didn’t seem to know what to do with that in the slightest, and Richie couldn’t blame him. Eddie was blushing high up in his cheeks, and Richie felt like he might as well have died and gone straight to heaven. Fuck he was cute, so cute.

“Okay,” Eddie said at last, and he had put his hands into his lap, his whole body fidgeting. “I get out at five if you want to maybe go to dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Richie rushed out, grinning from ear to ear, “That’d be awesome. Fuck yeah. I love eating.”

“Eating is a pretty good thing to love, yeah,” Eddie said, and even though he was still blushing, he managed to smirk. “Most people generally do it.”

“Shit,” Richie said, and he was going to die. He was absolutely going to die, and it was going to be because of Eddie Kaspbrak.

“I’ll see you then,” Richie said, knocking his knuckles against the desk in some stupid, and then he winked, because of course he winked. He was a fucking moron. But it drew a smile from Eddie and Richie realized that he would gladly commit to being an idiot for the rest of his life if it meant getting that sort of smile out of Eddie.

He walked away with one foot on the ground and one foot in the clouds. When he arrived back at the table of his new friends plus Stan, he was surrounded by excited, tittering questions, and Richie realized that maybe for the first time in his life he didn’t feel so out of place.

Stan kept an eye on him the entire time, and when the girls got up to leave for their own classes, Stan lingered behind.

“I think he’s a good guy,” Stan said at last, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Richie?”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked, frowning up at Stan. Stan frowned right back and he looked over at Eddie before down at Richie.

“Just don’t be an asshole,” Stan said, “I’m sure he got plenty of that shit back in Derry.”

“I’m not gonna be an asshole. What the fuck, dude,” Richie said maybe a little defensively. Stan’s look softened, and he reached out and lightly shoved Richie’s shoulder.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Stan said, “You just don’t always think before talking.”

“Trust me,” Richie said, holding both his hands up, “I don’t want to fuck this up. Thing is like, yeah, I liked him a lot already- don’t give me that look, Stan, I can have a crush on someone I’ve never spoken to, shut up. It’s just knowing he’d gone to Derry too…I don’t need to know him to know that he gets it.”

Richie didn’t have to expand on what he meant by ‘gets it.’ Stan had been there when he was thirteen, when Richie had first been struggling with coming out. Stan had been the first, and technically only, person he had ever formally come out to. With Bev he had just made some comment about boys one day and that had been that. Stan though?

He had gone specifically to Stan. He had gone to temple while Stan had been practicing for his bar mitzvah and had promised Stan he wouldn’t be noisy. He had kept his promise. Richie had been distracted by Stan’s speech about becoming a man and facing your challenges head-on when Richie had blurted it out: “I’m gay.”

It hadn’t been graceful and looking back on it Richie hadn’t really even planned it all that consciously. It had just happened, and Stan had looked as shocked as Richie probably had. Richie had quickly stood up, panicked, half expecting Stan to ask him to leave. But then Stan hadn’t.

Stan had just closed his book, stared at it for a long moment, and then told Richie four very simple words that had never once left Richie’s mind: “I’m proud of you.”

That was all there had been. Stan hadn’t asked if he was sure or when he had known or anything like that. He had just told Richie he was proud, and Richie hadn’t had to ask if he meant it. If he still loved him.

Richie had just known that he did.

That hadn’t changed since then, and if anything, Stan had become the sole reason he had gotten as vocally comfortable about his sexuality as he had. Stan had been the one to ask Richie what kind of boys he liked when Richie had figured he would never be able to talk about that kind of thing. Stan had been the one who had told Richie he’d stand on look out while Richie stole some gay skin rags from behind the counter at the pharmacy.

All the same, Stan wasn’t like him at the end of the day. Stan understood him, but he didn’t _understand._ Richie’s sexuality haunted him wherever he walked in town, and he knew what people said about him. He knew what kind of graffiti was written about him on bathroom walls, that his mouth was good for things besides talking trash.

He knew what it was like to feel like that part of you was the worst thing that had ever come from your birth.

And now he knew a kid who had grown up in that same hellhole of a town. Homeschool or not, it was a small town which meant people talked. Now that Richie was really thinking about it, he felt like Eddie’s last name was familiar, but couldn’t pinpoint why.

It didn’t matter though. Eddie had accepted his date, and that meant he had to be like him, and so he had to understand, right? Richie clung to that.

“Yeah,” Stan said softly, “Okay. Well. Have a nice time, Richie. That burger joint at the west end of campus has a ramp. I can’t believe this place isn’t more accessible by now.”

The words didn’t really mean anything to Richie. He mostly just looked confused, but Stan had already packed up his bag and turned to leave. Richie shrugged, not thinking too hard about it. When five PM rolled around, Richie had to find out the hard way what Stan was talking about.

Later, Stan would call him the biggest fucking idiot of all time, which fair, but in Richie’s defense he was struck dumb by Eddie’s face. He felt like they could dually share that responsibility.

Richie didn’t want to hover around, and so he waited just at the edge of the desk and kept himself buried in his phone to look like he wasn’t impatiently waiting. He heard a smooth gliding motion and felt someone approach him just from behind. Richie spun around and his eyes dropped down to Eddie.

Eddie who was seated neatly in a manual wheelchair. Richie’s smile froze on his face, and he suddenly felt like the world’s biggest jackass. His mind became a white wall of _how in the absolute fuck did I not notice that? How do you not notice that?_

Something must have gave on his face because Eddie was frowning suddenly and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t know you were in a wheelchair,” Richie said, and God only fucking knew why, but he instantly hated himself for it the moment Eddie’s face went a little pale.

“Oh,” Eddie said, and there was this slump that made his body cave inward just in this subtle way that reminded Richie of the time Stan had showed him the baby bird he’d found out in his backyard. A head too big to be held up by a body not quite caught up.

“I can’t believe it,” Richie continued quickly, and he sighed loudly, dramatically, “I could have used a pick-up line like _Does this mean you’ll ride me for free?_ No, that’s trashy even for me. There’s a goldmine here though.”

Eddie stared at him, his mouth hanging open. “Are you seriously making wheelchair jokes right now?”

“No,” Richie said plainly, “I’m making wheelchair _pick up lines._ Keep up with me, dude.”

Eddie kept on staring at him and Richie was lost in all the possibilities of pick-up lines. He was also realizing that Stan was right, because now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t think of that many places on campus where they could eat that didn’t have steps leading up to it.

“You- you’re still flirting with me?” Eddie asked, and in Richie’s opinion, this was Eddie’s moment of shining stupidity.

“Uh,” Richie said, “Duh? Did you miss the whole stupid gorgeous thing or-.”

“It’s just,” Eddie interrupted quickly, “If this is some joke, I’d really rather just not. I’m tired. I just worked all day. And I really don’t-.”

“Eds, my love, I wish it was a joke but I’m genuinely just that stupid and was actually just too caught up on your face to pay attention to the fact that the seat you were in had handles on the back,” Richie said, putting a hand up to keep Eddie from getting in over his head with the wrong kind of thoughts.

“Wow, all right,” Eddie said, nose crinkled up, “If we’re going to do this, we need to lay out some ground rules. First off, never call me Eds again. I will roll over your fucking spleen.”  
  
“Can’t believe it. First date and we’re already getting to dirty talk. This really is a dream come true,” Richie drawled. It was natural to walk ahead next to Eddie. He kicked the electric door opener and let Eddie go through first.

“Secondly,” Eddie said, rudely ignoring Richie’s dirty talk comment, “If you have fifty million questions, I’d really rather just get them out of the way now. Wait – no, I can already predict your first one. Yes, my dick works. I hate when people ask that.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Richie lied. He was definitely going to ask that, but purely out of selfish reasons. It was completely relevant. “I’d like the record to show that I would still date you even if your dick was busted. I’d make a little wheelchair for it and guide it right into my mouth. It’s handicap accessible.”

Eddie shrieked, pausing in his rolling to stare up at Richie, his mouth open.

“You…” Eddie began, and then all at once, he started to laugh. At first it was just a low laugh, and then it grew and grew until he was laughing in his chair so hard his whole body was shaking. It was hands down the best sound that Richie had ever heard in his entire life.

After that, Eddie’s entire demeanor seemed to open up and relax. Richie shoved his hands into his pockets and tried his best t not feel too proud.

“I can’t believe I’m going on a date with you,” Eddie said.

“I know. Your charity is appreciated though,” Richie said, and he found that it was easy to keep in step with Eddie’s chair. “If these jokes are in bad taste-.”

“No,” Eddie interrupted instantly, “For the love of _god,_ don’t even. You have no clue how sick I get of people acting like they have to handle me with kid-gloves. It’s nice. Like, I wouldn’t recommend you make these kinds of jokes to just anyone you meet in a wheelchair, but…”

“Yeah, Eds, that’s what I was gonna do. Just head right on up to the nearest person in a wheelchair besides you and start cracking it out,” Richie drawled. “I’m feral but I’m not t _hat_ hopeless.”

Eddie smiled at him, and there was something terribly soft in it, and Richie realized that he really was a little bit in love. “No, I don’t think you are that hopeless.”

“Really though,” Richie said, “Is there anything I should know? Like as a general thing. I don’t want to be a dick and just assume shit and then have you stroking out.”

“I’m not gonna _stroke out,_ oh my god.” Eddie was grinning again though, so Richie figured he wasn’t crossing the line.

“Yeah, I figured, but still,” Richie said, and despite his jokes, he did mean it. Maybe it was a little blunt to be asking, but he also wanted to make sure he knew how to react if he had to. If there was something to even react _to._ “Like, I won’t lie dude, I barely know anything about wheelchair people.”

“Wheelchair people,” Eddie echoed, “That is exactly what we are called. Thank you.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s a case by case thing, okay? Just like everyone else in the world. I can actually walk, you know, it just really hurts to most days and if I’m gonna walk I’d rather save it for stuff I really like to do or really important things,” Eddie explained, “Like dancing. I love to dance.”

“Yeah?” Richie asked, grinning. Eddie seemed like the dancing sort. “Got some slick dancing shoes?”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” Eddie said, “I have ballet shoes _and_ tap shoes. Although I can’t do either anymore.” There was a hint of something in his tone, something vulnerable, and Richie swiftly moved the conversation away.

“Okay, so we clearly have to dance at some point when you’re up to it. I’ll probably die if we don’t. You know how to twerk, I assume, because that’s definitely been one of my fantasies with you.”

“Me twerking?”

“I mean. In a way. Horizontally. On a bed.”

“ _Richie,_ ” Eddie screamed, and a few kids walking by looked their way, but Richie was absolutely living for it.

“Yeah, you screaming my name was involved too.”

“I hate this so much. I should leave.”

“By all means. I don’t have a boot to trap you with here,” Richie said with a gesture to Eddie’s wheels. It got Eddie laughing all over again.

When he calmed down, Richie did have a genuine question.

“When you say it hurts…”

“I get a lot of fatigue. And a lot of radiating pain,” Eddie explained, “I take medication. Some days are worse than others. Today’s a pretty good day.”

“Yeah, well, if it starts sucking royally, just let me know and we can call the date over. But you’ll have to make it up to me later. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“Oh you don’t?” Eddie smiled up at him, “It’s fine. I’ll let you know. I can’t really hide it anyway. I’m kind of a cry-baby about it.”

“Babe,” Richie said, snorting, “I don’t think you’re exactly a cry-baby for crying over something like this. I cry over stupid shit like the other day I was having a bad day and I spilled my chocolate milk. My fucking chocolate milk.”

“You said you cried over something stupid,” Eddie said, “That just sounds plain devastating to me.”

It was so easy to be with Eddie. They talked effortlessly the entire way to the burger joint. Richie asked about the ramp thing, and Eddie whined loudly and openly at once. It was apparently a massive bitch getting around campus, and they were trying to get a letter in the making for it.

As they got to a table, Richie realized a beautiful benefit to sitting at a booth with Eddie. It meant Eddie could roll up to the end of the table and Richie could sit at the edge, their knees bumping every so often, and it was so, so much better than sitting across from Eddie.

They talked closely over burgers, and Richie cooed over how much meat Eddie could pack away, making at least five appropriate jokes for that sorta thing, and then at the end they split a chocolate milkshake.

“Let me walk you home,” Richie said as they left, and Eddie smiled up at him.

“I mean _you_ can walk, I’ll follow,” Eddie joked, and Richie snorted, reaching a hand out to shove at his head.

“You fucker. Walk can just mean – you know, _motion._ ”

“Oh _sure,_ ” Eddie said, bouncing his head up and down dramatically, but he was grinning.

The only downside, so far as Richie was concerned, was that there was no real way to hold Eddie’s hand while they walked. His hands had been itching to do it the entire dinner, and he should of.

As they walked, Richie got used to the comforting sound of Eddie’s wheels rolling across the gravel, and he tipped his head back to look up at the sky. It was okay if they couldn’t hold hands, he thought. Just existing next to Eddie was enough. He wondered when a good time would be to ask Eddie for his number. He didn’t want to leave without it, but god knew he had no idea how to do this shit. He suddenly wished he had asked Stan for a few more tips.

They eventually got to Eddie’s dorm, and Eddie swiped his key and the door hummed as its mechanics opened itself up. Richie followed Eddie inside, and he pulled up to a door. He unlocked his door and swung it open. Richie didn’t dare assume he was being asked in for the night, and instead stood with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders up by his ears.

“Are you gonna ask me for my number?” Eddie asked, looking up at Richie.

“Fuck, yeah. I just. I couldn’t think of a good time,” Richie rushed to say, and he dug his phone out of his pocket, his hands a little shaky. He had started to think about how this was usually part of the night where you’d kiss someone, but he didn’t know how to do that. Not with a boy standing up, and not with a boy sitting down. He just didn’t know how to kiss, never had before, and wasn’t sure if Eddie would even want that kind of thing yet.

He carefully typed in Eddie’s number, not wanting to mess it up, and to make sure he had it right he sent the number a kissy-emoji. Eddie sent one right back, and they exchanged a smile.

“I’d ask you in if I wasn’t so intent on keeping my purity,” Eddie said, and for whatever god forsaken reason, it was enough to make Richie’s stomach swoop and his face bloom.

“Me oh my, I should just call you my own personal Wheel of Fortune. Getting me all kinds of lucky here. Are you sure you don’t want me helping you to break that chair in in a new way?” Richie said, fanning himself, using his Southern Bell voice which was arguably his best.

“That’s not even what- ugh, never mind. Your jokes are still trash.”

“That’s my nickname, baby, don’t wear it out,” Richie said, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

“Thanks Richie,” Eddie said at last, and Richie tipped his head at him.

“What for?”

“For taking me out. I’ve never been on a date before,” Eddie admitted.

“Me neither,” Richie said.

“Oh that I buy,” Eddie said in earnest, and Richie mock-gasped in offense.

“Exsqueeeeze me!”

“I’m not squeezing anything, you asshole.”

“Oh well if we’re talking about assholes now…”

“Shut _up._ ” Eddie stood up then, a motion so fluid that Richie could see how he had to of been a beautiful dancer. To Richie’s delight, Eddie was a perfect four inches shorter than him, and Richie smirked at that, not thinking of why Eddie had stood up. Not thinking until Eddie had grabbed the front of his jacket and pushed himself up onto his tiptoes so that he could kiss Richie right on the mouth.

Richie’s eyes went wide, and at some point, his hands had come out of his jacket to hover uselessly around Eddie’s body. Then they landed on the holy ground of Eddie’s hips, shapely and firm, and his thumbs found the delightful notches of his hip bones.

And the kiss. The _kiss._

Their mouths fit together from end to end, top to bottom, and it didn’t feel like a first kiss. It felt like their hundredth kiss or their thousandth. It felt like Eddie’s body had been the home he had always been walking towards, and he never wanted to walk away from it ever again. His hands slid up over his hips, grip tightening, and he pressed against Eddie’s body, feeling all the lines of his body meet his own, and he breathed.

When Eddie broke the kiss, their noses brushed together, and Eddie merely remained in his space, his arms at some point having come to rest around his neck. He smiled at Richie then, and Richie saw a million moments of his life in that smile, tucking into an entire lifetime of love he wanted to have with this boy.

Eddie slid out of his grasp and was sitting back into his chair. Richie touched the edge of his mouth, and it occurred only then that Eddie had stood up.

“You didn’t have to. I could of-.”

“Like I said,” Eddie cut him off, and he rolled himself into his bedroom. Lights clicked on and Eddie turned his chair effortlessly to look at Richie, “I like to save my energy for the important things.”

No one had ever called Richie important. He would have even accused Eddie of outright lying if it wasn’t for the fact that there was inevitable proof sitting under his ass that he wasn’t. Richie’s mouth stayed over his mouth, and he felt a bit like his eyes were stinging.

How often had he spent thinking that he was just some waste of space that everyone wanted to shut out and shut up? How many days had his mother looked past him, through him, absently wishing out loud that he had been a daughter, that she just didn’t understand him, didn’t _want_ to? How many teachers had begrudgingly handed him back perfect scores on papers while muttering about how he probably had cheated to get them?

No one had ever seen him as something important before. Least of all the way Eddie was looking at him right then, his eyes soft, sincere.

“Rich? You okay, man?” Eddie asked quietly, and Richie moved forward. He bent down and planted one hand against the arm of Eddie’s chair, and the other he rested against Eddie’s cheek. He kissed him for the second time that night, or maybe it was the millionth in their thirtieth lifespan together- Richie didn’t know, but all he did know was that he had to start looking at wedding venues the moment he got back to his room.

He was going to marry this boy.

_The_ Boy.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want you can find me over on Tumblr @freshreddie. I talk about Reddie all of the fucking time and I'd be more than happy to talk to people about my boys.
> 
> also i'm so sorry if there's any blatant errors anywhere. I wrote this at like 4 in the morning and I never look over my work before posting it OOP


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